


breathe deeper

by calcelmo



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Codependency, F/M, Post-Resident Evil 2, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23789608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcelmo/pseuds/calcelmo
Summary: Claire's been through a lot. When Chris finds out, he doesn't take it well.
Relationships: Chris Redfield/Claire Redfield
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	breathe deeper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sadlittletiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlittletiger/gifts).



> -please leave horrible mean comments, i know you want to.  
> -title from breathe deeper by tame impala which this fic was written to  
> -shoutout to my friends slt and cf for encouraging me to keep writing for this fandom

Mechanically, he was going through the motions. Inside, he was a fucking mess.

When Claire had gone to college, he didn't see too much of her. It was difficult at first. They didn't know how to be without each other; fraught phone calls lasting hours. Sometimes Claire called him before she went to sleep, just so she could feel closer to him. In time, they adjusted. There were fewer arguments now that they weren't in constant proximity, and he was extremely happy to see Claire making friends and becoming truly independent.

This past week they'd been living in each other's pockets again. They were used to it, having grown up so close, although the tension was starting to reach boiling point. 

Every time he looked at her, the breath was knocked out of him in anger, and his stomach twisted in guilt. He had to brace himself against the kitchen counter and count backwards from 100, feeling her worried gaze burning into his back. 

He wanted to get out of the apartment, draw some fresh air into his lungs instead of simmering in stale anger. But he also couldn't bear to leave her alone again, not even for a moment. 

"We're out of milk, I'm just-"

"I'm coming with you."

Claire huffed. "Chris, it's not even a block away. I need some space."

He shook his head. "We go together, or not at all."

They walked in silence. They used to fall into easy banter, fooling around like kids no matter how old they really were. Now, Chris couldn't summon any good humour. And Claire snapped at him every time he tried to talk to her, frustrated with how overbearing he'd become. 

Something was going to break; they couldn't go on like this. Through the wall, Chris heard her crying into her pillow. As much as he wanted to go to her, he was paralyzed where he sat. She wanted to go meet with her friend. His mind was cycling through a thousand different scenarios where she ended up battered and bleeding out on the sidewalk, no one around to save her.

Claire appeared at the door, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. 

"I'm going," she told him. "Don't try and stop me."

He stood up from the sofa. "Claire. You know why I can't..." 

"I'll fucking kill myself if I have to stay cooped up in here for another minute," she said contemptuously. Before he could react, she was storming out the front door.

There was time. He could easily catch up to her. He'd carry her kicking and screaming if he had to.

And then it hit him. How hopeless it all was. That he was too late. Stopping Claire from leaving the house now was stupid, because the damage had already been done. If it would ever have worked, he'd missed his chance. 

He went and got a beer from the fridge. He didn't turn on the T.V, because he wanted to make sure he could hear her key in the door when she got back. 

He finished his beer and went straight for another. The hours ticked by, and his nerves got more and more frayed. He couldn't get the intrusive images out of his head, graphic and nauseating, his sister dead because he'd failed at protecting her. _Again._

At some point, Chris fell asleep, resting his head against the sofa. It was coming up to midnight, and he was exhausted.

12:30. He startled awake. Her keys were thrown carelessly onto the coffee table. He heard her toeing off her shoes and shrugging off her jacket, before she walked into the lounge and paused.

"Chris...?" she whispered into the dark.

He swallowed, sitting up. He could feel a headache coming on. "I'm here, sweetheart."

She crossed the room and to his surprise, nestled against him, shifting to get closer.

She'd been smoking.

It was raining outside, he could tell from the way her skin was clammy and damp. He rubbed some warmth into her arms, and she made a soft sound. 

"Don't try and leave me again," Chris said. He tried to make it sound like an order, use the rare big-brother tone that meant no arguments. But it sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, touched her forehead to his. His arms came to curl around her small waist, squeezing her tight. He remembered the last night they'd shared a bed like this. It was just before she left for college. 

They slept better than they had in months, tangled up in each other. 

In the morning, she pressed a kiss to his jaw, wordlessly got up and headed to the bathroom for a shower. He lay there remembering the warmth of her body pressed against his, feeling cold without it. The water ran for a long time before she came back, wrapped up in a towel. 

He caught a glimpse of red marring her skin, and without thinking, he got up to touch her shoulder.

Claire turned to him, still holding the towel up to cover herself.

He felt like he was really seeing her for the first time since she'd found him and told him what happened. She didn't really look like his kid sister any more. Her beauty was haunting; undeniable, but hard to stomach.

He opened his mouth but couldn't think of what to say. "Your back. There's a..." he turned her round gently, inhaling sharply when he saw the ragged wound scabbed over around her left shoulder blade. He thought he'd seen the worst of her injuries, but this one looked so sore and painful.

"You cleaning it?" he asked softly. His hand went up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. "I can do it for you, if it's hard to reach."

"It's not the half of it," Claire sighed. "Do you want to see the rest?" 

She'd refused to show him at first. She said he was scaring her. He'd spent the whole night staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how he'd failed as a brother. Not only did he fail to protect her, he failed to comfort her afterwards.

Truth be told, he didn't really want to see the rest of her wounds. He hated himself a little bit more every time he noticed another mark. But he nodded, because it was his fault, and he deserved it. 

She let the towel covering her drop to the floor. They'd seen each other in every state of undress possible a thousand times; something he often wondered if he shouldn't have encouraged. He'd always found it hard to draw boundaries between them, because he felt so guilty pushing her away. 

Seeing her naked wasn't what made him flinch. It was the bruising. The cuts, the scabs, the grazes and scrapes. The raw red teeth marks, the scores in the flesh made by rotting fingernails. Some of them would fade, but most of them would stand out livid on her pale skin forever. A perpetual reminder that she'd gone through hell. She may have come out alive, but Chris had no doubt it had changed her. 

She watched him watching her, until their eyes met again.

"I was stupid," she said quietly. "I tried to remember everything you taught me, but sometimes I just- froze. There were a lot of close calls." 

He was still processing the first part of her sentence. _Stupid. She thought she'd been stupid._

"You're the bravest person I know," he said hoarsely.

Something changed between them in that moment, like an elastic band snapping in half after they'd stretched it for years and years. Her expression hardened. He didn't know what it was, until she cupped his face and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. 

Even though he struggled not to flinch away, push her back, tell her it was wrong; he somehow knew that rejecting her now would cut deeper than any of the marks on her body. So he parted his lips for her to deepen the kiss, and lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

He wasn't really thinking straight.

He was only thinking about her.

He lay her down on the sofa so her hair fanned out, and gently ran his thumbs over her cheekbones. He hated the way he was responding to her touch, the way she pulled him close and arched her back up against him, so her breasts pressed against his chest. She rocked her hips against him, buried her hands in his hair and licked into his mouth. 

She was wet, and that went straight to his dick. He knew he was going to hell now, but he didn't care, so long as his sister was okay. He'd do anything she asked. Anything in the world. 

"I don't wanna hurt you," he whispered against her lips.

"Chris," she whispered on a sigh, sliding her hand down his abs and under his waistband to take his cock in her hand. She shifted her hips so it pressed against her entrance. "I _need_ it to hurt."

He wanted to say no. He wanted to be gentle and loving, keep her safe in the bracket of his arms, the only two people in the world. But that wasn't what she needed.

When he first pushed into her, her whole body tensed, and her breath caught on the pain. When he paused, she forced him deeper, nails digging into his back. The thought eventually registered that what they were doing was disgusting and illegal and so, _so_ fucking wrong. He wished the revelation had made him soften and slip out of her, but after existing in something of a fugue state, he was suddenly _this close_ to coming inside his own sister. 

"Don't stop," she begged. 

He kept going. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692957) by [sadlittletiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlittletiger/pseuds/sadlittletiger)




End file.
